Thirteen
by Matthew Penn
Summary: On her thirteenth birthday, Ronnie Anne reflects on what it really means to grow up, her status as "Queen of Pain," and whether or not she wants her friendship with Lincoln to grow into something much deeper.


I believe there are things people don't understand about birthdays. For instance, today is my thirteenth birthday. My mom says I'm growing up, but to be honest I don't like I'm actually grown-up. I don't feel any different than I was when I was eleven, or ten, or nine, or even younger than that.

People make a big deal out of birthdays. I don't think people know what they mean when they say "growing up." Sometimes people don't act grown-up. We get older and our bodies change, but people don't act their age. I've seen plenty of adults act like they're still kids. An old woman throwing a tantrum at the cashier in the grocery store, two guys yelling and screaming when their cars collide; girls trash talking each other behind their backs.

Not even those in my family act their age, like my cousin Carlota. She's sixteen, but when she's upset she can act six. My abuelo, despite being much wiser than most of us, can act like a little boy when he's around my cousins, but I guess that's okay. My older brother can be a love-stricken eight-year-old whenever he's around his girlfriend. I get sick just thinking about that. Sometimes I see my mom cry like she's three. I catch her alone in her room and for no reason she just cry and cry. I don't know what makes her cry, and sometimes I don't want to. Maybe we just have to let it out.

Myself? Well, I always try to suppress my emotions. In Royal Woods Elementary I have a tough girl reputation I have to keep up, and I try not to let things get to me. Nobody needs to see cry or be clumsy over a boy I like. It's hard work, but it's something I have to do. Well, something I used to do. I guessed I spent so much time putting up my tough girl image that

The first and last time anybody in the school seen me cry was in fourth grade. Back then nobody knew who I was, and I wanted to keep it that way. I sat in the back of the class, not wanting to draw attention to myself, not wanting any drama.

Then life pulls you out of your bubble and you have to make something of yourself. Heather Davis knew she didn't like the first time we looked at each other. She reminded me everyday that I was inferior. She'd do everything to humiliate me, and sometimes get half of the class in on it. One time I found my books in a trash can, and when Heather and her minions found me trying to get them out they called me "human garbage." Mrs. Watkins never notice what I was going through all that time. She was a horrible teacher. I still tried to keep myself together. The last thing I wanted was for my tormentor and oppressor to see me cry, until one day she broke me.

Mrs. Watkins made the class do an assignment in silence. All that time Heather was determined to do everything in her power to make my life difficult. She sent drew ugly pictures of me that exaggerate my two front teeth to my desk, passed notes with written insults, assault me with spitballs and paper airplanes. And Mrs. Watkins sat there, not paying attention to my misery. I felt helpless. I laid my head face-down on the desk. I couldn't let any of them see me so vulnerable.

As soon as the bell rang I tried to be the first one out. I felt hot tears ready to explode from my glassy eyes. A lump began to build up inside my throat, and I made a detour to the girls restroom, then sat inside a stall. At that time I wish I could stay there forever, then Heather and her two brainless lackies followed me. They knew I was in there, and they continued to taunt me, laugh at me, made me feel like I'm nothing.

That's when I decided I had enough. Anger slowly gave way. I jumped right out of the stall and tackled Heather. I gave her a face full of fists and a foot to the mouth; she got a black eye and a bloody nose, I think I knocked out her two front teeth. I got suspended when word went around what happened, and my mom grounded me.

None of that mattered when I came back. The next time I saw Heather I also saw the "Oh crap" look on her face, and she'd turn the opposite direction. Even her stupid friends abandoned her. I was no longer the quiet little girl everyone used as a doormat. Kids were scared to approach me, but I liked it. I took it as a form of respect.

I never told anyone this, but the fight with Heather was the only time I ever got physical with anybody. But then again, nobody needed to know that. I had the title of the Latin Queen of Pain. Things were finally looking up at Royal Woods Elementary.

And then some lame-o with white hair had to come into my life. That's another thing about growing up and maturity my mom has talked to me about. Sooner or later I'm going to develop certain feelings for other people. I knew what she meant, and promised her and myself that will never happen to me. I've seen what Bobby has become when he started dating. He's a totally different person when he's in love, and I don't like it. He speaks in this otherworldly romantic language and he's no longer focused on the important stuff. And I saw his girlfriend, and she's nothing more than a generic, assembly-line blonde hair and blue eyes pretty girl. I know he can do better than that.

I never thought it would happen to me. Besides, I have a reputation to keep, and having crushes puts a hinder on things. I have to keep my head in the game.

Then Lincoln came out of nowhere and everything changed. I'm not sure how it happened. I don't know what I saw in him. He was nowhere in my radar until fifth grade. I was vaguely aware of him at school, and seem like a chipped-tooth dork... and yet, whenever I see him, I feel a flurry weird sensations inside of me. My stomach is weak and empty, my body shakes, my nerves tingle. It was like my entire being was working against me, all because of some boy.

I told my mom... and my older brother about it and they just became ecstatic. She says I'm in love, and I wanted to throw up. How could this be true? I tried my best to avoid Lincoln, but he always occupied my thoughts; his white hair, his smile, his passion. I didn't know what to do.

Bobby gave me some pointers on how to get Lincoln's attention. He told me to perform some big anonymous romantic gestures, and when the time is right I should reveal myself to him. That's how he met his girlfriend Lori, which to this day I am still shocked with the knowledge that she and Lincoln are siblings.

Anyway, I'm not so good with romance and all that junk, so I caught Lincoln's attention the best way I know how... I pulled pranks on him. At first I knew it was wrong, and I thought he may be angry, but to my surprise he just seemed more annoyed than angry. Later he confronted when he realized I was responsible, so I put on my tough-girl face. He wanted to settle this after school and I agreed. To tell you the truth, I didn't know what he planned to do, and I had no intention to fight him. Maybe give him Indian burns, a wet willy, and possibly throw in a wedgie.

I waited for him on the street, and there he was approaching me with a look of confidence and determination. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't turned on by that. I was ready to scare him off.

And then he kissed me on the lips.

It was so unexpected, and I punched him in the eye. I didn't mean to do it. It was sudden reflex. That kiss came completely out of nowhere. I saw a glimpse of his black before he ran away, and I felt really bad. My efforts to get the attention of the only boy I ever liked failed. I was scared that he'll never want anything to do with me. Later that day, I gave him a slab of uncooked raw steak to heal his eye. It was the least I can do.

We became friends after that day. I asked him why he kissed me, and he told me his sisters convinced him to do it. I also discovered that besides Lori, he has nine other sisters, and he's the middle child and only son. Sometimes I'm afraid to learn anything new about him.

One time he accidentally hurt my feelings in front of friends. I know he didn't really mean to say those awful things, but it still hurt. Bobby broke up with Lori because of it, and I told him he didn't need to do something that drastic. I'll get over it. They forced to go on a double-date. I won't go into detail, but Lincoln is the kind of guy who, when he makes a mistake, will do everything he can to redeem himself, to the point of humiliating himself in front of everyone. He kissed me in front of maybe two dozen people to prove he cared about me. That's more than I can say about most of the boys at school. And that's what I like the most about him. He's not afraid to man up and say "I'm sorry."

Still, I can't help but have mixed feelings about him. One part of me wants us to be just friends, and another part wants us to be more than that. Not only that he kissed me a few more times at the most unexpected moments. Like, why? I couldn't let people see me with him. It may ruin my tough-girl status, and kids will now where to strike me where it hurts the most. I still remember that day when he kissed me in front of everyone at the restaurant, feeling I can never do something like that for him. It makes me feel unworthy. And yet, whenever I'm with him I feel safe, secure, and I'm able to be myself. Lincoln may be the only one who truly understands me, to see me who I really am, and that's why I feel so conflicted.

But as soon as Lincoln holds my hand, giving me his cute, chipped-tooth smile, none of that matters. People can make fun of us all they want. I'll gladly revoke my title as the Queen of Pain. They will never know what true happiness feels like. To be with someone who likes you for you. I can see that's how Bobby feels when he's with Lori, even though I still think he can do better.

That's part of growing up, I guess. You have no idea who you are, not just yet. You're discovering about yourself, your body reacts against you, your feelings and emotions are at a constant struggle with your rationality. Some people say that twelve is the transitional age in adolescence, but the more I think about it, I believe thirteen is the actual age of transition. Some part of you is still a child, but you feel a change within yourself. And then fourteen comes, and then fifteen, sixteen... in other words, your teenage years begin but you're not quite there yet.

It's time for my celebration of my thirteen years of being who I am. Mom brings the cake out, we light candles, we sing in Spanish, I blow them out, and little Carlitos whines for the first slice. And I know Lincoln will be there. I invited him. Everyone will think we're a couple, that we're madly in love, including Bobby. Let them think that. Lincoln and I know what's really going on between us. We're just a boy and a girl trying to figure this thing out. And someday maybe I can pay him back for all the times he showed the world how much he cares about me.


End file.
